Voyeurs, or What Goes Around, Comes Around
by Burnedtoasty
Summary: G1: Skywarp, after a prank gone terribly awry, is forced to stay behind, alone, to watch the monitors. He thought it didn't get any worse - and he was wrong... So, so wrong.


**Disclaimer**: _I, in no way, shape, or form, own the Transformers© franchise or the characters it contains. All publicly recognizable characters are copyrighted to Hasbro, and the respective artists/writers/et cetera. No infringement intended._

**Continuity**: Generation One (G1) cartoon-verse.

**Characters**: Laserbeak, Skywarp, Thundercracker

**Warnings**: Very, very, very lightly implied slash, if you want see it.

**Author's Note**: Criticism encouraged, technical points preferable.

--

The command deck was oddly silent.

Well, perhaps not _that_ 'oddly' – it _was_ readily explained away, that telling lack of voices, the absence of clicking fingers and datapads being uploaded. Still, it was an unusual thing, almost seeming to smother as much as it distanced one from it. It pooled in the corners, relishing the discomfort it caused, the silent, steady havoc it wreaked in idle processors.

He hated it.

Slaggit. He didn't _mean_ for Megatron to get caught in the elaborate trap. And he _certainly_ hadn't meant for Soundwave and his midgets to get stuck in it as well. How was he supposed to know that they would be going down that hall? Really, how many mechs used the large parts storage room to host secretive meetings?

And, really, being expressly forbidden to go on raids, and from the Internet – which was quickly becoming a source of endless amusement – seemed a _smidge_ excessive. Really. So they were stuck in what amounted to gigantic gobs of gum for four hours – so what? It's not like he, say, tried to _kill_ them while they were in the goo, unlike _some_ in his trine. No. No, he just had a little chuckle - that was it! He did nothing to deserve such harsh punishment. Nothing! Slag, he was the _loyal_ one in the wing, for Primus' sake!

Sighing, Skywarp plopped both feet up on the terminal, folding his hands behind his head. Before him, several of the monitors sent feeds; on here, a newsreel, the computer tracking key words; there, a few past battles, recorded for future reference. Maps of the continents. Energy sources. Random images. _Dull_ images. Not even a live feed.

Boooooring.

"Hrrrrrrr," The Decepticon groaned, mouth falling ajar with the zombified sound. "Bored. Me bored. Me Skywarp bored."

The silence continued to gloat from its various perches, mocking how small his voice seemed.

Grimacing, Skywarp tilted his head back, looking at the door with unguarded hope. No such luck. Everyone'd only been gone, what… two breems?

Ugh.

And even Thundercracker had trudged off with the group. Slag! He hadn't even _offered_ to stay behind and keep him company, to help bear the burden of punishment. No. He just wandered off with the rest, getting all buddy-buddy with the coneheads. Was there no sense of loyalty in 'cons anymore?

… Hrm. Well. Scratch that. The sanctity of the trine? Yeah. That was good. Sounded real poetic like.

Sanctity of trine, plus one Thundercracker, equal to zilch. Equation o' Skywarp, master of the mathematics.

Stupid slagger. When he got back… oh, the possibilities. Nothing extravagant – for now – but slag if he'd be getting a good recharge's rest for the next orn or so. Maybe get a few defective parts next time he ran off to 

get some repairs. Bomb in his berth. The usual, little stuff.

How much longer, now?

"Fraggit!" Skywarp shouted, checking his internal chronometer. Not even a full breem since the last time he checked. Why did the universe hate him so? What was the deal with time?

Not like he could go anywhere much, to while away the intervening groons. 'Restricted access' and all that slag. Couldn't even get rations by himself. That was mortifying, trying to beg off his fellows to pass him through. Ugh.

"Squark?"

"Huh?" The jet asked dumbly, twisting around in his commandeered chair – Soundwave's, to be exact, since he thought to toy with fate – to view the entrance.

Laserbeak made a lazy circle, uncertainly glaring at the lone Decepticon.

"'Beaky!" He shouted, gleefully springing to his feet. Wherever Cassetticons were to be found, hilarity was soon to follow, be it in the form of new information, juicy surveillance, or the occasional cruel prank. Primus, what a windfall. "My best friend. Gleaming vision of vectored beauty. Whatcha got?"

The Cassetticon landed on a nearby chair, tilting its head inquisitively, a '_what the slag are_ you _doing here_?' sort of gesture. "Squark?"

"What? Me? I didn't do nothing!" Skywarp placed both hands over his chest, the very image of hurt incorruptibility. "Got left behind to watch the monitors. Everyone's on a raid."

"Squark."

"Pfft. Would I lie to you?"

"_Squark_."

"C'mon birdy-bot. I gotta watch the monitors, right? Just gimme the recordings I _know_ you got. Promise not to do anything." He crooned, holding both arms outstretched in welcome, grinning wide and innocuous like. "If I do, you can always tell Soundwave on me. Right?"

Laserbeak shifted, undecided.

"_Please_, 'Beaky! I'm dyin' here." Both hands slapped together in a pleading gesticulation, the larger Decepticon fell to his knees. "Lemme just see what the 'bots are up to, alright? Won't bother you again. Swear to Primus, I won't."

Coming to a decision, Laserbeak drew himself upright, self-importantly intoning, "Squark," before hopping down to the monitor section, transforming as he went to slide easily into the port.

"Ha! Thanks. You're a life saver." Skywarp scrambled off his knees, leaping into the seat. His momentum sent the chair spinning around once, the jet giggling madly to himself. "Alright, then, let's see what the ol' Ark crew's been up to."

A few deft flicks of fingertips, a few pass codes to circumvent and…

_'Nuh! Uhh- oh, slag—!'_

Skywarp sneered. So, the 'bots weren't as close as they seemed. He sat back as he had before, both feet on the terminal, hands folded behind his head as he listened to the sweet, sweet clang and clatter of battle. "Neat. In-fighting. They didn't seem the type." He chuckled to the hidden Cassetticon, grinning from audio to audio.

'_Ohhhh_.'

Huh. That sounded… weird.

'_Ah— please_—!'

He flung himself upright, jaw dropping in shock. That wasn't… slag, that couldn't be!

'_Clang, clang_,' went the recording, followed by ever more excited grunts and cries. Moans. The soft, needy whisper of a name, the sound of fingers sliding along delicate faceplate seams. A wail of agonized ecstasy, a discharge of sparks, the sound of shifting bodies. '_Clank, clang_'.

"Holy scrap! Holy _scrap_!" Skywarp squealed, flapping his arms as if to ward off the sounds. That wasn't battle! That was _interfacing_! Clanging, banging interfacing! _Autobots_! Interfacing! Not fun. Not fun at all! "What- what _is_ this? Why is, what, oh, Primus, slag, scrap, smelt it, fraggit, what the slag? _What the slag_?" He joined the enthused cries with one of his own, scrambling out of his seat and across the room. "Nasty! 'Beaky, turn it off! Please! I'm begging you!"

But the recording wasn't finished – it had to play to the end, joining the databanks.

Oh, frag.

Skywarp began to panic. He ran about the room, pounding at the door, wailing over the groans and whimpers – trying to _ignore_ the groans and whimpers, and how very slagging _good_ they sounded – begging pathetically for the recording to end.

"Slag! Stop it! _Stop_! Primus, Soundwave, you pervert! Ah! _Ew_! Stop!" He bawled, pounding with both fists upon the wall. "Oh, slag, slag, slag – nasty! Gross! _Ewwww_! Did they just – yuck! Oh, slag, make it stop! _Stop_!" From imploring and beseeching Laserbeak, to cursing various deities, to apologizing to every deity on the previous list, he went, interspersed with wails of mental agony, shouting his rage against Soundwave's… kinky surveillance tapes. Slag, was that all he did? No wonder he was always at the terminal!

At last, unable to further take the sounds, Skywarp flung himself to the floor, screeching. "Gross, gross, gross, oh, slag, I'm sorry! I'm sorry for the goo! I'm sorry for everything! Slaggit, I'm slagging, fragging _sorry_!"

The tape clicked off, the recording having run its course, the final, spark-clenchingly gratified cry cut off. Blessed, wonderful, beautiful silence fell once more, wrapping his audios in its soothing quietness.

"… _Wahhh_." Skywarp groaned, curling in upon himself. Oh, _Primus_, that had been awful. Stupid Soundwave. Leave it to the intimidating frag-drone to record scrap like that. "Fragging creepy voyeur…"

'_Nuh! Uhh– oh, slag_ –!'

"What? No, not again 'Beaky! _Please_! Ah, _slaggit_!"

--

"He's probably going to be all in a huff over being left behind," Thundercracker grunted, favoring his crumpled left side. The others had long since dispersed to their various quarters or to the repair bay, leaving the jets alone to make their way. "So, I thought I'd just, y'know, cheer him up a bit. Slag, he's gonna be impossible to deal with until I do _something_ to make up for it."

"Heh, your termination notice," Thrust chuckled, turning down the other hallway with the stolen stack of energon cubes, shrugging his farewells. It was a rare thing indeed, when they actually succeeded against the 'bots. Everyone was in a better mood. It was almost surreal.

And, hey, Skywarp would be ecstatic to hear he was released from his impromptu confinement, by decree of a pleased Megatron. Maybe they could go out for a little flight, to appease his companion's ire. If he was up to it, they could even go for a strafing game, taking out a few out-of-the-way targets.

He stopped before the command deck doors, bracing himself for the coming fight. _Just take it, TC. Just take it and wait for him to run out of insults to fling_. With forethought, he un-subspaced a filched 'cube, readying it for the peace offering.

"Hey, 'Warp—"

Something heavy and keening slammed into his front, driving him back out into the hallway.

"Oh, slag! TC! Thank Primus, I'm sorry, slag, I'm sorry!" Skywarp bawled, clinging desperately to him, continuing to flee, forcing the startled Thundercracker to backpedal or lose his balance. "Slag, I didn't know, I swear I didn't, and I'm so, _so_ sorry! That evil bird! Fraggit, I'm sorry, okay? Sorry! I'll _never_ do that to Soundwave again!"

"What's going on?" Thundercracker wailed over the babbling stream of apologies, staggering into the corner. "'Warp, what happened?"

"Soundwave's a _pervert_, TC! I swear he is!" Skywarp grasped his face in both hands rattling his head, optics lit with a lunatic brightness. "Never trust the quiet ones! Slag, the things I've heard, TC, the horrible things!" He laughed madly, hysterical, before snatching Thundercracker's slack hand, and turning to sprint down the vacated corridor. "_Don't say anything_. Just run."

"Primus, what happened in there?" Stumbling after, Thundercracker followed, shocked. Was he attacked? Did one of the 'bots get in, using the other battle as a distraction? "'Warp, what's going on?"

"It's not in-fighting! It's not, it's not, and I thought it was, but it wasn't." Skywarp babbled inanely, making a beeline for their mutual quarters. "I couldn't get out. It's wrong, so wrong. I didn't want to; I didn't mean to, I swear it. Oh, slag, TC – it sounded _fun_!"

"'Fun'? I don't understand."

"The grunting, TC. Don't you see? It was the grunting! Psychological warfare! I swear I'll never look at Soundwave's files again! I swear! Slag, it's not worth it. _Not. Worth. It_."

Baffled, Thundercracker followed, wondering what horrors his wing mate had been subjected to – and not wanting to see a single one of them.

Somewhere from deep inside the terminal, Laserbeak squawked out something rather akin to a giggle, erasing the recording from his memory banks. _What goes around comes around_, he thought, making a warbling chuckle. Ah, yes, he wouldn't have to worry about getting caught in any more traps for a good, long time.

Now, if only he had still had that recording made in _Megatron_'s quarters!


End file.
